


You Laughed, I Spent Six Weeks in Traction

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Red Dwarf, Scrubs
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-02
Updated: 2003-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red Dwarf/Scrubs crossover. We know Lister broke his back once, falling into the cargo bay due to a faulty harness, and who better to coincidentally be on duty in the medi-bay than the gang from Scrubs?</p><p>Dedicated to my Fia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Red Dwarf characters belong to Grant Naylor. Scrubs characters belong to NBC/ABC.

Lister spat his mouthful of milk back into the cup and poured the whole lot down the sink. The last time he'd checked, milk wasn't supposed to taste like vinegar, or have little lumpy bits in it. It was time for a trip to the supermarket.

* * *

'Sorry, we're all out of the litre bottles; can I get you a bigger bottle?' The store assistant looked helpful on the outside, but Lister could sense her seething boredom just under the surface.

'Thanks, but I just had a two litre bottle, and we didn't finish it before it went off. I'll get one from one of the machines,' he said.

'Can I help you with anything else?'

'Oh... I'll just have a pack of cigarettes, thanks. JMC brand, super mild.'

'Thirties or fifties?'

'Thirties.'

The girl's head, hair dyed blonde, red and orange, moved vaguely as she tried to find the smokes he'd asked for. Finally she located them, right above her head. 'Oh, there they are.' She scanned them. 'Nine-seventy, please.'

Lister opened his wallet and located a ten. The girl banged the register open and handed him thirty pennycents change, mustering a smile and a 'Have a nice day' as he left the store. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw her plop down on an empty milk crate and lean back against the counter, commenting to her co-worker, 'If this crate wasn't so bloody hard, it'd be like sitting on the couch at home.'

* * *

Rimmer reacted less than helpfully to the news that the supermarket was out of milk, and that so were the three vending machines Lister had tried on his way back to the quarters.

'Why didn't you just go to a different shop? And I'll bet it's T Shift's fault, lazy bunch of no-hopers,' he said.

'Rimmer, _we're_ meant to have restocked those machines,' Lister sighed. 'I suppose we should really go down and get a few crates from the cargo bay.'

'_We_?'

'I'm not carrying three crates all the way back up here alone. You're coming with me,' Lister said firmly.

Rimmer put down the book he was pretending to read, tucked a bookmark into it, and shut the cover loudly. 'All right then. But you owe me one.'

'One what? Cigarette? Bottle of milk? Night where I don't snore like a pig?'

'I don't smoke, I don't drink your revolting fatty milk, and the night when you don't snore like a pig, Lister, is the night when Hollister comes and tucks us both into bed and gives us milk and cookies without making us brush our teeth.'

Lister regarded Rimmer with some amusement. 'You're weird, you know that?'

* * *

When they got down to Supplies -- a mere two hours' ride in the Xpress Lift -- it was to find a single harried supply officer on duty. Lister inquired after the milk and was told to 'piss off and find it yourself, you lazy bugger'.

'I think it's this way,' Rimmer said. 'I used to work in Supplies, you know.'

'Rimmer. That was for three afternoons, when one of the regular officers got the flu. Where are we going then?'

They wove their way between giant teetering piles of boxes that swayed slightly each time the ship moved. Lister realised the air was getting colder, just as they rounded a corner and found themselves before the fridge. And what a fridge it was -- floor-to-ceiling whiteness stretched out in front of them, and no less than five doors graced its height.

'Righto,' Rimmer said, reading the supply list beside the bottom door. 'According to this, the milk's up there.' He pointed at the second door from the top. 'There's the ladder and there's the safety harness, and there's the supply lift.' He stood back and folded his arms. 'I'll wait here.'

'Come on man, you've got longer arms than me. Can't you do it?'

'You're the one who wants the milk, Lister. You can get it.' Rimmer was immovable, leaning against the railing. Behind him, the cargo bay continued down, sixty feet to the solid metal floor. Every now and then there was a crash as a badly placed box fell off its perch. Lister winced with every sound as he buckled the harness on with trembling fingers.

'How do I work this thing?'

'The rope goes through that eye on the front, and you climb the ladder, then wind the rope round the hooks -- see, figure-of-eight, like the rope for a flag.' Rimmer grabbed the rope and demonstrated. Lister squinted downwards.

'How d'you know that about flags? I didn't know that.'

'Is that even relevant? As it happens, it's my Space Scout training.'

'I might've known.'

Finally, Lister was confident that the rope was going to do its thing. He began his ascent, clinging to the ladder as tightly as if he was going rock-climbing for the first time. Rimmer kept back, just in case Lister fell on his head or something.

'Hey, this isn't so bad!' Lister called when he reached the appropriate door.

'Just shut up and get the milk, Lister. God, I wish I hadn't come down here.'

Lister wibbled over the pulley system for the supply lift for a minute before discovering the way to lock it in place -- an icypole stick, tied to the side of the mechanism, was to be wedged into the gears. Typical JMC technology. Lister wouldn't be surprised if the same idea was used to stop the whole ship.

He got the fridge door open and crabwalked along the tiny ledge leading to it. The air was almost freezing inside the fridge, but he found the right milk and stacked three crates of it onto the platform without getting frostbite. _Lucky I wasn't getting ice cream_, he thought.

He stepped back onto the ledge, missed his footing, and descended rather rapidly about ten feet.

Fortunately, his safety rope held.

Unfortunately, the leather harness snapped and Lister went cartwheeling down, straight past the shocked Rimmer, all the way to the metal floor sixty feet below. He screamed all the way down.

* * *

'...think he's coming round.'

'Really? Give him another shot.'

'Are you sure?'

'You don't want him waking up in the middle of surgery, do you? No? Shut up and poke him.'

Lister felt the pinprick in his arm, sharp and real pain compared to the far-off yammering of agony in his back, and drifted back into the darkness.

* * *

'Is he awake?'

'Yeah, Bambi, he's awake. He just has his eyes closed.'

'I bet he's asleep.'

'How much you wanna bet? He's awake.'

'...' said Lister.

'See, told you.'

'Damn. I owe Turk twenty. I bet he wouldn't wake up for another hour at least.'

'...' said Lister, unsticking his eyelids. He felt very strange. Like he was lying down, but he couldn't feel the mattress under his back. He seemed to be floating. Whee. Where was the bed?

'Hey, there.' A face swam into view. Female. Dark skin. Curly dark hair. Sweet, concerned expression. 'How're you feeling?'

'...bed...'

'Yeah. You'll be in bed for a while, I think.' The face turned away. 'Care to give him the news, Bambi?'

What the smeg? Was he being treated by a smegging Disney character, or what?

Another face appeared. Male. Kind of dopey looking. Dark hair too, that only made his face look even paler. 'Hello, Mr. Lister. I'm afraid you've taken a bit of a fall.'

Yes. Yes, he remembered that. Getting the milk. Then falling. The short, sharp jerk as the rope caught him, seconds before the harness gave way. Rimmer's face, white, mouth open in a soundless O.

'...how long?'

'How long have you been asleep?'

Lister nodded. It hurt.

'A little over two days. You've been in surgery.' The Bambi one -- if that was him -- paused. 'I have some bad news. Your back's been broken in three places.'

Lister wanted to ask if it was permanent damage, wanted to ask if he was going to survive, wanted to ask how long he'd be in the hospital.

Instead, he fainted.

* * *

'...blackjack.'

'Damn. You got me.' Lister felt something land on his stomach. It felt like a hand. 'For the first time in, what, twenty?'

'Don't knock it, Turk.'

Lister prised his eyes open again. The Bambi one was sitting on his left. A baby-faced black dude -- Turk? - was sitting on his right. Both of them looked surprised to see his eyes open. The black one had his hand on a pile of cards lying on Lister's stomach.

'Hello, Mr. Lister. I'm Doctor Dorian and this is Doctor Turk,' said Bambi. Thank _God_, it wasn't his real name. 'Doctor Turk did your surgery -- some of it, anyway -- and I'll be keeping an eye on you during your recovery.'

'You're playing cards on my stomach,' Lister managed to say.

Doctor Dorian shrugged. 'You're the right height. Sorry.'

Who _were_ these people? 'Why can't I feel the bed under me?'

Doctor Dorian coughed discreetly. 'Well, like I said before you passed out, your spine was broken by your fall into the cargo bay. You're currently in traction, and likely to be there for about six weeks until the bones knit and we can be sure you'll be all right.'

Lister let his head fall back into its sling. 'Smeg. Are you two going to play cards on me all that time?'

Doctor Turk spoke up. 'Hell no, man! I get out of here in twenty minutes! I'm guessin' Elliott might take over for me. Although even she'll more than kick your butt, JD.' He grinned across Lister, who suddenly felt like he wasn't there.

'So, wait. That woman called you Bambi. He's calling you JD. What the hell do _I_ call you?'

There was a short silence. 'Well,' Bambi/JD/whoever said finally, 'if you're going to be here for six weeks, 'JD' would probably be better than 'Doctor'. John Dorian is my name. Doctoring is my game.'

'Man, doctoring is your _job_. Don't say it like that. You'll scare him,' Turk said. He reached out with his right hand and patted Lister's right hand -- which, Lister noted, was strapped to his side, presumably to help keep him from moving too much. 'And you can call _me_ Turk, if you get to see that much of me, which you won't, because I'm usually in surgery. Chris Turk.'

'Right. And who was that woman here before?' Lister asked.

'That was Carla,' JD said.

'She's my girl,' Turk said proudly.

'But don't let her hear you say that,' JD said. 'She's not the type you can _own_, Turk.'

A beeping sound rang out through the small private room and JD looked to his pager. 'Damn. I've got to go,' he said to Lister, 'but I'll come check on you before I go home. If you need anything, press your buzzer and Carla or one of the other nurses will come help you out.' He showed Lister where the buzzer was, pinned to the sling beside his right hand, just within reach. 'See you later.' Turk also said goodbye and followed JD out. Lister heard them make it to the hallway before they both started laughing. He didn't want to know whether it was at him or not.

* * *

He was half-dozing when his next visitor appeared, figuring that sleep was the best way to get through the next six weeks. But the sound of footsteps coming into his room, rather than going on by, got his attention.

The woman in the doorway wasn't the one he'd seen earlier. This one was blonde, and white, and had a tentative smile that grew when she realised he was awake.

'Hi. Mr. Lister? You fell into the cargo bay?'

'So I heard,' Lister said.

'I'm Elliott Reid, one of the doctors on call tonight. JD said he was going to see you before he left, but we had a whole lot of people come in to Emergency with food poisoning, and he hasn't been able to leave yet.' She came in and put her hand out, looked surprised when he didn't reach to shake it, then slapped her forehead. 'Oh, you must think I'm such a ditz.'

Lister shook his head, grinning. 'Never mind. What was the food poisoning from?'

Elliott shrugged. 'We're not a hundred percent sure, but we think a load of milk that went off. They might've been left out of the fridge, maybe...' She trailed off and stared, open-mouthed, as Lister attempted to slap his own forehead and failed miserably.

* * *

He'd thought the parade of new faces had finished, but the next morning he was awoken by a veritable horde of them -- six or seven young doctors, plus an older man. No; two of them he knew, Elliott and JD. Elliott waved. JD smiled. Lister smiled back. He had a little more trouble attempting to wave.

'Alright everyone. This patient fell eighty feet into the cargo bay. Would anyone care to hazard a guess as to why we have him in this sling? Doctor Dorian?' the older man asked.

'He's broken his back, Doctor Cox.'

The way Doctor Cox smiled, almost exactly like a shark, made Lister think it might be a bit of a bad idea to make jokes about his name.

'Excellent, Doctor Dorian. And why a sling, why not the bed, Doctor Reid?'

'To keep him motionless while the bones knit,' Elliott parroted.

'Fantastic.' Just _how_ did he sound so sincere and sarcastic at the same time? 'And so the spinal cord doesn't get any more damaged.'

Lister closed his eyes. This was going to be a long six weeks.


	2. Overkill

Musing on it later, Lister could never decide which week was the worst. True, he didn't have to worry quite so much about potential paraplegia -- the triple break was just above his coccyx -- as these days there were far more advanced medical techniques to repair such damage than there had been in the past. But there were still the nerves (and irritating visitors) of the first week, the creeping boredom of the second week, and the start of his physical therapy midway through the fourth week. Not to mention the continuation of said therapy during the fifth week, at the same time as his mysterious acquisition of a whole new range of profanity, and the psychiatrist visits in the sixth (and, thank God, last) week.

* * *

The first two days, he'd spent asleep and in surgery. The next two, he'd spent meeting the people who were going to be looking after him. It was halfway through the afternoon of his fourth day in the hospital when Rimmer finally came to see him.

'Listy.' He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, his face was pale, and his eyes were a little bloodshot. This, combined with the fact that he had one of Lister's T-shirts on, made Lister suspect that Rimmer hadn't been sleeping very well. 'How are you?'

'How am _I_?' Lister nodded at his immobile body. 'Isn't it obvious? I should be askin' _you_, man. You look terrible. And you're a bit late with visiting, aren't you? Even if you do hate me, I thought you'd be here yesterday.'

Rimmer sighed. 'You're right. I _do_ look terrible, I _am_ late, and I _do_ hate you. But I tried to get in yesterday. It was just that Hollister called me in to an inquiry into what happened.' Lister raised an eyebrow. 'Well, what do you expect? When someone breaks their back on a JMC ship, even if it _is_ only you, they have to find out why.'

'And I suppose you told them I buggered up the harness.'

'No, actually, as fun as it would've been to make you look like an idiot, they know I was there and knew how to use it. Besides, they found out it was broken.'

'It took three days to figure that out? And we're letting these people steer the ship?'

Rimmer looked shifty. 'Actually... they were waiting until you woke up from surgery. If you'd died it would've been a big deal.'

'Oh, yes, because me hanging here for six weeks isn't a big deal,' Lister said.

'It is, but not _that_ big. Anyway, they were discussing your pay, and I butted in and negotiated that you'd get paid double while you're in here, plus they'd pay your hospital fees, even though you haven't paid your insurance in two years.' Rimmer grinned.

'Great!' Lister sagged back into his sling, relieved.

'One catch.'

'Mmmm?'

'You're not allowed to sue them,' Rimmer admitted.

'Smeg.' Lister closed his eyes. 'Even though their equipment's crap?'

'Lister, I know the way they work. You'd spend more in legal fees than you'd ever get out of them.' Rimmer stepped closer to the sling. 'How're you coping, anyway?'

Lister opened his eyes again. 'Not too bad. I'm not bored... not yet, anyway. And I have a really hot nurse. And one of the doctors is... well, she's Elliott Reid, if you see her. The other doctors are a little weird -- I woke up and they were playing blackjack on my stomach -- but I think I'm doing pretty well.'

'Pretty well for a man wearing a cast the entire crew could sign.'

'Rimmer.'

'Sorry.' Rimmer pulled his hand out from behind his back. 'I brought you flowers.'

Lister blinked. 'Flowers? Where did you get flowers?'

'Well, we don't have a florist, and I couldn't find any plastic ones, so technically it's a few twigs I stole from the botanical gardens, plus a rose I made out of my last practice exam paper, but it's the thought that counts.' Rimmer stuck the leafy twigs into Lister's untouched water glass and placed the paper flower on top of them. 'At least it won't wilt.'

'You do have a point.' Just then Lister spotted Carla in the doorway, and wished _he'd_ wilt. It was downright embarrassing, being bed-bathed when the evidence of his attraction to every female who showed up was right there for all to see.

'Sorry, Mr. Rimmer, you'll have to leave,' Carla said briskly. 'It's time for Dave's bed-bath.'

Rimmer snickered. 'Right.' He gave Lister a little push, setting the sling swinging. 'Don't go off to the pub without me.'

'Very funny, Rimmer.'

* * *

The last person who came in that day, during the evening visiting hours, was the girl who'd sold him his cigarettes that -- no, the other -- morning. She had a harassed look on her face, but smiled when she saw him and flopped into the chair beside his head.

'Just thought I'd come by and say hi,' she said. 'I was the one supposed to reorder the milk the other day, and I forgot, so I kinda feel like if I'd done what I was meant to, you wouldn't be here.'

Lister looked at her contrite face. 'Forget it,' he said, meaning it.

'Really?'

'Especially if...' He paused as she started digging around in her bag, finally producing a pack of cigarettes, the same as the ones he'd bought the other day. 'You brought me fags.'

'I got them off your roommate. He didn't want to give them to me, but I stepped on his foot and snatched them and now he's mad at me. Are you mad at me?'

'No.' He watched her flick a lighter into action. 'Thanks.' She placed the cigarette between his lips and he drew deeply, then nodded for her to take it away again.

'This isn't gonna work.' She fumbled at his left wrist for a moment -- he heard Velcro tearing open - and then his hand was free. She handed him the cigarette. 'There you go.'

'Have one, if you want.'

'Mmmm, okay.' She lit one and they puffed away in a companionable silence for a while, Lister marvelling over the way his hand could actually move. He vaguely hoped she could leave it un-Velcroed. He liked having actual control over his body.

'Hey, I don't even know your name,' he said, realising he didn't.

'Ah, yeah. I know yours -- David Lister - it's on the door. I'm Emma.' She didn't reach to shake his hand. 'Oh, and apart from you, I also kinda blame myself for the food poisoning people.'

'How come?'

'Someone found the crates you'd taken out and delivered them to us, but they'd been out of the fridge for ages -- they felt cold, still, but I should've tested one of them. I don't know how long they'd been out of the fridge for, but it was too long -- they just weren't right.' She sighed and stubbed her cigarette out on one of the leaves. 'Anyway. I took flowers to them all -- plastic flowers -- and explained, but most of them didn't blame me.'

'Most of them?'

'One of them threw a jug at me and told me to go away. But he was about eighty and I think he was just tired. It took me all day. How can so many people not sniff their milk before they drink it?'

'Beats me,' Lister said, not mentioning his own indiscretion in that department. Emma leaned over and took his almost-finished cigarette, dropping it into the water glass with the bits of tree. 'So, apart from coming in here to apologise, why did you come?'

She shrugged. 'Eh. Felt like it. Tell me if I'm wrong, but didn't you date Kris Kochanski?'

Lister closed his eyes. 'Yeah. For a while.'

'Thought so. She comes into work sometimes. Bridgitte, the girl I was working with when you came in last, is friends with her roommate Barbara. She -- Kris, not Bridg' -- showed us the necklace you got her.'

'And the purple mark it left on her neck?' Lister asked.

'She got rid of the mark eventually. She still wears the necklace sometimes, but I knew she was back with the chef guy because they came in together one time, about two weeks ago.' Emma's voice sounded sympathetic, so Lister opened his eyes again. 'I'm real sorry you had to split. She's nice.'

'She's a princess,' Lister said without considering how much of a tired cliché it would be.

Emma considered this. 'Don't know about that. I mean, it wasn't very tactful, dumping you as soon as the other guy came and apologised.'

'Does the entire ship know the story?'

Emma gave up. 'Hell, Dave, we're such a close knit community, everyone knows everyone's business -- the whole ship knows you're in here, for starters, and a bunch of people started a betting pool on how long it'd be before Kris came and visited you.'

Lister laughed. 'Put me down for a dollarpound that it'll be a week since the accident, okay?'

'Three more days?' Emma gave him a strange look. 'God, I thought you two stayed friends.'

'We did. But she's busy. I happen to know she's rostered on for all of this week for daytime shifts, and she knows I'm not goin' anywhere.'

'God.' Emma picked the cigarette pack up. 'I couldn't do that to anyone.'

'That would explain why you're here now,' Lister pointed out.

'Oh, yeah.' Emma blushed and put the pack back down, picking at the cello wrap around it. 'Well, I guess I've apologised and all... so...'

'Visiting hours are over,' interrupted a voice from the door. It wasn't Carla -- some older woman. Pink didn't suit her at all. 'Sorry, ma'am, but you'll have to go.' She hospital-scuffed her way on down the corridor.

Emma rolled her eyes. 'Okay, well... I hope you don't get too bored.'

'Come back and visit some other time, if you want,' Lister said. 'I'm not going anywhere.' He considered asking her to Velcro his wrist back in place -- if the nurse saw it she might get mad -- but then didn't. He could always say he'd done it himself.

'Okay, yeah, I'll come if I can. I'll let you know who wins the betting pool, if you let me know when Kris comes and visits you.' She patted his hand, dropped his cigarettes into the drawer so the nurse wouldn't notice, and hurried out.

Lister relaxed into the sling and closed his eyes again, hoping for a few minutes' rest before the pain crept back in around the drugs.

* * *

JD knew all about the betting pool.

'I heard about that. Elliott told me that some girl who was here last night mentioned it. It's true, you can't keep secrets on a spaceship.'

Lister rolled his eyes. The nurse had Velcroed his wrist down again, so he didn't have much choice of gestures. 'And what's your bet?'

'Well, I don't really know much about your relationship with her, but I bet a buckquid she'd be here by this evening.'

'She doesn't have a free shift during visiting hours for another couple of days,' Lister said.

'You know her schedule inside out?'

'More or less,' Lister said, not bothering to add that he knew that Kochanski was exactly one and one-eighth miles from where he was presently lying, unless she'd gone to the toilet. 'I also know that unless she goes and asks Hollister, he won't think of giving her the time to come and see me, _and_ I know that she won't take time off. She knows I'm not going anywhere,' he repeated.

'This must be pretty rough on you,' JD said. 'Can I get you anything? CD player? Want me to switch the computer on so you can talk to Holly?'

Lister made a face. 'Holly knows too much. He's probably thought about all the variables and calculated the exact minute when Kochanski will walk in here. And while he was doing that, he was probably provin' Einstein wrong or something.'

JD snickered. 'So, no computer. Videos? DVDs?'

'If you can drag Rimmer away from 14B-ing the vending machines, he'll show you which vids are mine. Just, well, not you. Send someone who's not vitally important to the medi-bay.'

'That'd still be me.' JD rolled _his_ eyes.

'Hey, JD, is there something wrong with your pager? Doctor Cox is looking for you,' Elliott said, poking her head through the doorway. 'Hi, Lister. How're you feeling today?'

'Hangin' in there,' Lister said. 'Thanks, JD.'

JD nodded. 'I'll tell Nurse Roberts what you want and she can tell someone to go and find someone to find Rimmer.' Nurse Roberts was presumably someone Lister hadn't met.

'J_D_...'

'Coming, coming,' JD said. He winked at Lister and hurried after Elliott.

* * *

Lister had mentally rated his chances of getting his videos that day and decided they were pretty low, but when the two o'clock visiting hours began -- there were three sessions; ten until twelve, two until five, then seven until nine - there was a funny squeaking noise from the corridor and a dolly hove into view with a cardboard box, TV, and VCR perched on it. Rimmer was pushing it. Emma was with him, her arms garlanded in cables.

A creepy-looking guy he hadn't met yet followed the two into the room, hooked up the TV and VCR, dropped the remote onto Lister's stomach, and left.

'Who was that?' Lister said.

'He's the cleaner,' Emma said. 'I heard he's a little...' -- she lowered her voice - '...insane.'

'I heard that!' came a voice from the corridor.

'INSANE!' Emma yelled back. She plopped down into the seat next to the bed again and found Lister's cigarettes without even searching.

'He's not supposed to be smoking,' Rimmer said.

'Bull,' Emma said comfortably, lighting Lister's fag, freeing his arm, and handing the cigarette over as if it was a practiced routine. 'Pull up a chair.'

Lister found out that Emma had joined Rimmer on his work shift after the supermarket suggested a change of work environment for a little while. Since Lister himself was in the hospital, Rimmer needed a sidekick to push the trolley.

'Now I know how you feel. Working with him would make me wanna break my back too.'

'It's not all bad.'

'Really?'

'I take it back, it _is_ all bad.'

Rimmer and Emma alternated visiting hours to make sure that Lister had adequate company and that the vending machines kept working.

'Has she ever explained why her hair is three colours?'

'No, Rimmer.'

But, just as Lister had predicted, Kochanski didn't come and visit until one week after the accident. It was a Monday, the first day of her off-cycle of shifts, just as he'd accurately recalled from the chart he'd made of her working times and hung over his bed (it was hidden behind his London Jets poster -- he didn't want to get busted for harassment).

Emma and Rimmer were both there when Kochanski came into the room.


	3. Fighting for My Love

Kochanski rushed over to the bed, managing to look concerned and completely ignore Emma and Rimmer at the same time. 'Dave! I just heard. You poor thing,' she gasped breathlessly.

'How could you only just have heard? It's been a week,' Lister said. 'Even the skutters came to visit.'

Kochanski dropped the caring front. 'Alright, I heard almost right away, but I didn't want to sound like a heartless bitch,' she said. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm as all right as anyone with their back broken in three places can be,' Lister said. 'How's Tim?'

'Come on, Dave, don't do that to me. That's unfair.'

'So is dumping me to go straight back to him the second he asked you to,' Lister retorted. 'It still hurts, Kris.' He noticed Emma and Rimmer sidling towards the door. 'Just where d'you think you're going?'

'Er... we'll leave you alone?' Rimmer said.

'You won't,' Lister said. 'Officer Kochanski will be gone soon.' He saw the look of amazement in her eyes. 'Won't you, Kris?'

'Dave -- I don't understand--'

'Do you remember when we were going out and you got that cold and I took three days off to stay with you?' Kochanski nodded silently. 'And that was just a cold,' Lister added. 'I've got a _broken back_ here, and where have you been all week? Working.'

'That's not fair. You're not my boyfriend any more.' Kochanski nearly pouted, then decided it would be unprofessional. 'I'm not obliged to come and see you.'

'I thought we were supposed to be staying friends.' Lister wished wished wished that he could just make her go away. Suddenly, he didn't care if they stayed friends or not. 'Please, Kris... don't do this.'

'Hey, what's up?' Turk swung through the door -- literally, let go of the door frame, and landed with his arms up like a champion gymnast saluting the judges. He stopped short at the sight of Kochanski. 'Whoa, sorry Dave man, didn't realise your girlfriend was here.'

'I'm _not_ his girlfriend,' Kochanski said, her tone lowering the room temperature about ten degrees. 'I'm just his _friend_, and I'm not sure about that.' She bent over and kissed Lister on the forehead, quickly, as if he was something dirty. 'I'll come visit again when there aren't so many people around, okay? I don't want to tire you out.' She left, quickly, leaving Lister with her last seven words circling randomly in his head. He remembered her saying them once when she was relentlessly seeking sex but paused, her hand about to sneak into his pants again, and checked that he was all right for another round of good-lovin'.

Back in the present, he grinned at Turk. 'Hey, man, how's it going?'

Turk rolled his eyes. 'I just excised a melanoma from some guy's _butt_.'

'Yuck!' Emma exclaimed. Rimmer grimaced. Lister imitated him, although he wasn't a hundred percent sure what Turk meant.

'Hi there, pretty lady. Is _this_ one your girlfriend?' Turk added to Lister, who smiled and shook his head.

'Emma, this is Chris Turk. Turk, this is Emma... and Rimmer, he's my roomie.' Turk shook hands with both of them. 'Turk's the one who saved _my_ 'butt' from being unable to go anywhere ever again.'

'So you're a hero?' Emma said, grinning.

'Well, hey...' Turk shifted from foot to foot, kind of embarrassed. 'Either none of us here is or we all are, I don't know. There're heaps of other people responsible for Dave here's recovery, like JD... or Elliott, kinda... or Carla.' He reddened -- barely visibly -- at the mention of his girlfriend's name.

'Sure as hell wasn't that woman,' Emma said. 'Can I ask you, Dave... did you know it was a rebound thing before she left you?'

'No,' Lister said. 'I'm not enjoying this, you realise,' he added. 'I can't put my hands over my ears if I want to ignore you.'

* * *

The day brought a stream of visitors. Captain Hollister dropped in, although his level of fake sympathy didn't fool anyone. Had Lister not met him several times due to Rimmer's multiple accusations of various bogus crimes, the Captain wouldn't've even remembered Lister's name. Todhunter swung by, bringing grapes and a card signed by all the crew -- it was the computer-generated one, and Lister had to snicker when he saw his own signature near the bottom. Kochanski came back at the evening visiting hours and brought chocolates, but Emma and Rimmer were back as well and evicted her at the door (but took the chocolates).

Lister, Rimmer and Emma sat and talked until the end of visiting hours that evening. Lister bemoaned the fact that he had another five weeks to go. Emma ate most of the chocolates, but fed one or two to Lister. Rimmer stayed mostly quiet, but joined in with the conversation a couple of times.

Finally, Emma looked at her watch. 'I gotta go, guys, I'm supposed to be meeting some friends... we're going on a mini pub crawl.'

'A mini pub crawl?' Lister asked.

'Yes, instead of switching pubs we just switch tables in the same pub.' Emma leaned over and smooched his cheek. 'See ya soon, okay? Don't go anywhere.' It had become a ritual joke in a shockingly short time. She pecked Rimmer on the cheek as well and hurried out of the room.

'She's nice,' Lister said as Rimmer fixed the Velcro closed around his wrist.

'She's like one of your friends, only a woman,' Rimmer said.

Lister rolled his eyes. 'She _is_ one of my friends.'

'You know what I mean. Those drunken idiots who spend all their time drinking the cooking sherry in the kitchens and... and _drinking_. Except she's got all the woman stuff, too.'

'Like breasts.'

'That wasn't what I meant.' Rimmer yanked on the Velcro, making it viciously tight for a moment. 'She's got redeeming qualities, and your friends don't.'

'They're not that bad. Besides, Selby's a chef. He outranks you.'

'The other two don't.'

Lister rolled his eyes again, wishing he could move more than just bits of his face. 'Go blow a sheep, Rimmer.'

Rimmer's face went all pointy and his eyes narrowed to arrowslits. 'Smeg off, Lister. You know, I felt sorry for you. You know what else? I laughed when you fell. It was just a reaction, and I was going to tell you and apologise. But I don't think I'm sorry any more. Not sorry at all.' He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Lister gaping after him.

'Had a little fight?'

Lister raised his head and peered past his feet. The janitor was leaning in the doorway, a mop in his hand.

'Kind of, yeah.' What had Emma said? He was insane? Was he really insane? What was he planning to do with that mop?

'It happens. Stay cool.' There was a rattling, rolling, splashing noise as the man walked away, and Lister realised there was a bucket to go with the mop. That was a relief -- in a way.

* * *

The lights out bed check had been performed by some nurse he didn't even know. Lister found that he missed seeing familiar faces -- some of the people who'd been in during the day had been gawkers who just wanted to see him dangling here like an idiot, and had no idea who he actually was. Of these, the young doctors doing rounds were only marginally better than the common people. At least the common people used language he could understand.

Hanging in the darkness, Lister's thoughts turned to Emma. He hadn't thought about sex much over the week, because he'd been in pain a lot of the time, but his medication had just brought him to the drowsy stage and his mind was drifting happily on a cloud. He imagined making love to her, the thought tempered by his memories of Kochanski.

Emma, of all people -- it was as likely he'd be thinking about Petersen, for God's sake. Emma was just a mate, not a potential girlfriend. But there was the way she'd kissed him on the cheek.

_She did that to Rimmer too_, his memory helpfully reminded him.

_Shut up_, Lister told it.

Whether she'd done it to Rimmer or not, the soft press of her lips on his cheek had been interesting. He'd been split up with Kochanski just long enough to be forgetting the little details of the way everything actually felt. And Rimmer sure as hell hadn't been kissing him goodnight. Which was a good thing. Although thinking about the merest possibility of Rimmer's lips anywhere near him in that context had made his first erection in a week begin to wilt.

_Better not think about Emma any more_, his sensibility suggested. _You haven't got your hands free, have you? And imagine if Carla came in to give you your bed-bath tomorrow and found you all messy. No, Dave. Think about Rimmer studying, think about Hollister, anything but sex_.

But the mental mention of Carla and bed-baths had sent him off down the wrong track again. The pain had kept his physical responses to a minimum, and the clinical way she'd handled the sponge had indicated she was used to doing this. Carla was quite pretty, too.

_What about Turk?_ the part of his mind that didn't want to get the shit beaten out of him said.

'Oh, shut up,' Lister said, unthinkingly attempting to roll over, nearly dislocating his shoulder, and making any further thoughts of sex or how to get free of the Velcro to masturbate a complete moot point as he shrieked in pain.

* * *

_One week later..._

'Newbie, if you're ready to pay attention, it would be nice if we could get on with this,' Doctor Cox said from Lister's left.

'I'm paying attention,' JD said indignantly. 'I'm just wondering if it's in the best interest of our patient to do this.'

Cox snorted. 'Don't tell me what I can and can't do. Now _deal_.'

Lister's stomach was acting as the table for another blackjack game, except this time Cox had discovered JD and Turk playing and had demanded to join in. Lister had tried to join in as well, but Cox wouldn't let him out of his restraints.

'You might roll over and fall out of the sling and break your back a few more times,' he'd said when Lister had asked why the restraints were even necessary. 'It's nothing to do with any natural streak of cruelty in anyone in the hospital wing.' And he'd refused to elaborate, saying only that if Lister really wanted to know he needed to talk to Doctor Kelso, whoever that was.

JD dealt the cards. Turk picked his up and Lister immediately knew that Turk had a winning hand -- that baby-face couldn't hide any emotions. JD, on the other hand, was frowning, and Cox just looked pissed off. And when Turk announced his perfect hand, Cox thumped his cards down so hard that Lister was almost winded.

The nurse call button was right next to his right hand. Lister pushed it, three times, hoping that none of them would notice. When Carla came in two minutes later, the look on her face was more than enough to make Lister feel better about the pain in his stomach.

'Just what do you three think you're doing? Turk, Todhunter just came in complaining of abdominal pain. Bambi, Elliott's been looking for you for half an hour. And Doctor Cox, if I ever catch you doing this to one of your patients again, I'm going to tell Kelso, and then I'm going to tell Jordan, and _then_ I'm going to get really mad.' She shooed the three of them out of the room -- and they went without arguing.

'Thank you,' Lister said.

Carla shrugged. 'It's as much for me as you, Dave. Everyone's been looking for those three for ages, and they all came and asked _me_.' She looked Lister over critically. 'You probably need a wash. I can't do it, but I'll send someone in.' Lister suspected that it wasn't really her job to do it anyway. That kind of thing was for junior nurses, not people like her who'd been doing the job for years.

'Has anyone come and asked about me today?' Lister asked.

Carla nodded. 'A few, but none of them were the people you said could stay.' After the number of gawkers he'd been getting, Lister had given her a list of people he wanted to see, and for nearly a week now had been having a fairly peaceful time. 'So Laverne made them go away.' She grinned. By this stage, Lister knew Laverne Roberts, and knew that any 'making people go away' on her part would have had very quick results.

'That's good.' Lister closed his eyes. 'I don't think I want my bed-bath just yet. I want to sleep.'

Carla put a hand on his forehead, more for comfort than to check his temperature. 'Are you okay?'

'Just tired.' His back had been less painful, what with the drugs they kept giving him, but it ached. 'And a little sore. And sick of people.'

'You're not feverish. Do you want a drink before I go?' Lister nodded, and Carla held the straw so he could drink from his water glass. 'If anyone comes to see you can I send them in?'

'Only if it's Rimmer or Emma.' He didn't want to see Kochanski. He was surprised that he even wanted to see Rimmer, but Rimmer was a connection to his usual, mundane, boring life -- a usual, mundane, boring life that was seeming more and more appealing with every second he spent hanging here. 'Thank you, Carla.'

'No problem. Do you want the light turned off?' She padded across the floor to the door and stood with her hand on the switch.

'Yes please.'

Carla turned the light off.


	4. Hold On Hope

At the beginning of the fourth week, Lister was allowed to have his arms free of the Velcro restraints as long as he didn't move around too much. Within half an hour of being freed he'd almost undone all the healing that had happened so far by leaning way over to his left to get his cigarettes out of the drawer, and nearly falling out of the sling.

He comforted himself with the thought that he'd be able to have a nice quiet smoke when his back stopped hurting, at least when Emma or someone turned up and picked his lighter up off the floor.

As it happened, Emma was back working at the supermarket. Someone else who worked there had fallen off a stepladder whilst looking for a bottle of Vat 69, and they needed her back; besides, although Rimmer quite liked working with her, she wasn't very good at cleaning. This meant, however, that they were going to have to alternate visiting hours again, and she wouldn't be there until the evening.

'Hey, Dave.'

Lister looked up from his lighter. 'Hi, JD.'

JD came into the room, frowning. 'You know, the condition was that you weren't supposed to move around so much.'

Lister tried a winning smile. 'Pick my lighter up for me?'

JD sighed and picked it up, putting it on the table. 'That's a bad habit, especially in a hospital.'

'You'd smoke too if you were in traction,' Lister said.

'I don't think so. I'd just eat all the chocolate people would bring me.' JD looked down at the woefully chocolate-free table. There was a bunch of flowers wilting in a vase, and that was all. 'Or maybe not.' He sat down. 'So, man, what's up?'

'I'm thinking of takin' up jogging,' Lister said dryly. 'What d'you _think_'s up?'

'Sorry. I'm not very good at making conversation.' JD sighed again. 'Elliott said I should come in and cheer you up.'

'Send Elliott in. That'd cheer me up.'

JD snickered. 'You and half the hospital, including the woman in number twelve.'

'Poor Elliott.'

'Poor Elliott nothing. She gets more offers of sex than the average Mimian hooker. The only thing is that as soon as people get to know her, they back off. She's got the personality of a neurotic squirrel on speed.' JD absently picked up the lighter and started sparking it on and off. 'Not that it's so bad, really, if you get used to it...'

'You like her, don't you?' Lister asked.

JD shot him a startled look, then grinned sheepishly. 'Well. Maybe.'

'Maybe?'

'Um. We're friends. I don't want to ruin it.'

Lister thought for a minute, then realised he had no advice to offer. He'd only had a few meaningful relationships in his life, and they'd all been with women he'd picked up in bars. And none of the tales he recalled from his friends were any different, except for that woman Selby claimed to be dating -- not that they'd ever met her -- that he'd picked up when he met her in the mess hall. One of the things Lister resented about being a technician was that Petersen, Chen and Selby all worked in the kitchens, and so the only time they ever saw each other was when they were getting drunk together.

'Dave?'

'Sorry.' Lister blinked. 'I was thinking about getting drunk.'

'Sounds good,' JD said. 'The last time I got drunk was when Doctor Cox decided he wanted to drag me to a bar and _talk_. Thank God his ex-wife turned up and demanded sex, or we would never have gotten out of there.'

'He's married?'

'Was. They divorced. Guess why.' JD rolled his eyes. 'Now when he wants someone to whine to he picks me, God knows why. Maybe it's because I'm the only person who'll listen.'

'Newbie, are you in here?' Cox was standing in the doorway. 'There you are. Is your beeper, like, _broken_ or something? We've got a situation in Emergency, all hands on deck.' He glanced at Lister. 'Hanging in there?' Without waiting for an answer, he was gone.

'Is his sense of humour always that bad?' Lister asked.

'No. It gets worse when he's drunk.'

* * *

Carla came in about five minutes after JD had left.

'Assessment time!' she said a little too perkily for Lister's liking. It made him suspicious. 'We need to know when you can go into PT.'

'PT?'

'Physical Therapy.' Carla was a woman who could pronounce capital letters. 'We're going to get you up and we're going to get you walking and you're not going to argue, understand?'

'Yes,' said Lister, who didn't.

'Good.' Carla started unVelcroing his legs. 'I need to determine your ability to move... scream if it hurts, okay?'

Lister went white. 'If... what?'

'It won't hurt. Just don't move. Let me move you.'

_Any time_, Lister thought. 'Okay,' he said.

Carla gently moved his legs for a few minutes. Lister gritted his teeth against the occasional wave of pain from his lower back. According to JD, his back was healing well - there was almost nothing that couldn't be cured quickly and easily these days -- but JD had said it would be longer than this until it was time to move. Apparently, someone had changed their mind.

'JD said I wouldn't have to move for another two weeks,' Lister said anyway.

Carla looked up at him briefly. 'Change of plan, sweetie -- Kelso says you can probably start PT next week, and I got asked to check, and it's not JD's decision.'

'Is it _my_ decision?'

'No,' Carla said with a definite sort of finality, and bent back to his legs. Lister bit his lip and tried not to yelp.

* * *

Petersen, Chen and Selby came in to visit that night, for only the third time since he'd come into hospital. Lister had the feeling they were loath to go anywhere one without the others, and the JMC's new rules on rotating shifts meant that they didn't always have time off at the same time.

'How's everything going?' Petersen asked. He was drinking from a can of whisky he'd brought in stuffed down his pants.

'The same,' Lister said. 'I'm lyin' here waitin' for me spine to knit.'

''Ave you considered crochet instead?' Chen said to general hilarity from everyone but Lister.

'Very funny. So, anythin' interesting happen out there?'

'Nah. Oh, Petersen didn't get drunk last night?'

'Really?'

'Only 'cos he left his wallet in his room and none of the barmaids will sleep with him any more.'

'Shut up, Chen,' Petersen said. 'It's not true,' he added to Lister. 'They all love me.'

'How've _you_ been, Selb?' Lister asked the quietest -- relatively speaking -- member of their little cabal.

'Not too bad,' Selby said, grinning. It was the grin that usually preceded lurid tales of the girlfriend none of them had ever met, so Lister forestalled further conversation along those lines by mentioning that he might be up and walking soon.

'Oh, hey, brilliant,' Chen said, 'then you can come and get drunk with us again.'

'For sure,' Lister said. He realised he did miss drinking with them. 'Some nights in here I really need a drink. It'd help the pain. And clear my head. Or maybe not. Maybe it'd fuzz it up more, but you know what I'm saying? Being strapped to this smegging thing all day every day... and the only action I get is the bed-baths... I can't even...' He stopped, catching the expressions on his friends' faces, and rolled his eyes. 'All I'm saying is, this isn't easy.'

Chen lit a cigarette and passed it to him, patting him on the shoulder. 'Relax. Three more weeks and you'll be out.'

'How do you know that?'

'There's a sign on your door detailing your progress.'

'Oh.' Why was _he_ the last person to hear about these things? It was only _his_ back, after all.

Sensing that he wasn't going to be much fun, the three rose to leave. It was then that Emma came screeching through the door, hurrying as was usual with her.

'Hi!' She noted the other three. 'Oh. Hi. These're your friends?'

'Yeah. They were just leaving,' Lister said. Petersen tried to introduce himself, but Selby, tipping Lister a wink, herded him and Chen out of the door. Emma watched them go, a faintly puzzled look on her face, which cleared as she bounced over to the bed and sat down, taking Lister's cigarette from him and dragging on it deeply.

'God, I needed that. Have I met any of them before?'

'Maybe. They work in the kitchens,' Lister said. 'I think most've the ship have met them at one time or another.'

'That short bloke looked familiar...' Emma dismissed it, giving Lister his cigarette back. She peeled the foil lid off his evening meal, which she had brought in with her. 'You've got mashed potato, peas, and chicken parmigiana tonight. Want to hear a story?' She launched into a story about some woman named 'Triffany' as she pulled his tray table up over his chest and placed the food on it. Apparently the woman had come into work and been the most interesting person Emma had seen all day.

'She liked my hair,' she said. 'I liked her earrings. Here's your fork. And then some bloke came in to buy beer and called me 'babe' twice.'

'Oh,' said Lister, prodding at his meal with the fork. Although he knew the meals Petersen helped make were sometimes rather suspect, he thought he'd prefer to be eating one of them than hospital food. 'Was he cute?'

'Eh,' said Emma. 'Not my type.' She smirked. 'He said the beer would keep him busy for an hour, and I said 'What, a _whole_ hour?'. And then he didn't have enough money, so we had to mess around with his credit card.' She noticed Lister's reluctance to eat and wagged a finger at him. 'You've got to eat, or you'll waste away.'

'With this stomach?'

'Aw, shut up.' She poked his shoulder. 'You're fine. Now eat. Or I'll feed you.'

'Promise?'

She took his fork and knife and started cutting up his chicken. 'You're just like any bloody male, aren't you? Hypochondriacs to the _n_th degree.'

'I happen to have a broken back,' said Lister, trying to be dignified. 'I don't see how that qualifies as being a hypochondriac.'

Emma speared a piece of chicken and held it to his lips. 'Shut up and eat.'

Lister let her feed him. It seemed safest, since she still had his knife.

* * *

They watched television together after Lister had finished eating. Emma guessed all the answers before the guests on _Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?_ and giggled when Lister called her a smartarse. She ended up sitting on the edge of his bed with an arm around him, but nothing more than that, and Lister thought it was safest that way. He was aware of what JD had said earlier about not wanting to ruin his friendship with Elliott by expecting more. But he was also aware of the soft press of Emma's breast against his side, and the way her hair smelled of aloe vera. He was confused, but knew better than to try and think about it -- better to decide what to do when he was on his feet again.

Emma changed that for him, though.

They'd become accustomed to the routine at the end of visiting hours, and when the five-minute announcement came ('Visiting hours will be over in five minutes. Please leave your chocolates by the bed or at the nurses' station,' according to Nurse Roberts) Emma got up as usual and switched the TV off as usual. 'Don't go anywhere,' she said as usual.

Then she broke with 'as usual' and kissed him.

Her mouth, on his, was as soft as when she kissed him on the cheek each night. It was the intention behind it that took Lister's mind and threw it over the boundaries of rational thought. This was no friendship thing. Friends didn't kiss friends like that. Not with that level of passion.

She pulled away, face serious but eyes smiling, and stroked a fingertip down his cheek. Then she hurried out of the room, shoes squeaking on the uncarpeted floor.

Lister stared after her for a long time, long after visiting hours ended and the lights went out. His lips burned with the taste of her. Why had she done it? What did she want? He tried to push the thought of her away, to sleep, but it came back again and again. Almost ashamed of himself, he slid one hand under the sheet, almost getting it tangled in his boxers before seeking and finding release. All of a sudden, what Carla or the other nurses might think in the morning if they found him like this didn't matter. There was no other way he was going to get any sleep, so long as the thought of Emma was in his mind.

* * *

She didn't come in to visit the next day, nor the next. Carla explained that she'd called her room and been told she had the flu. Lister, privately, wasn't sure that this was true, but accepted it because it was all the explanation he was getting.

On the third day she didn't come in, he started physical therapy. The therapist's name was Alex, and none of his usual doctors knew her very well.

'She's bossy,' said Elliott.

'She's assertive,' said Carla.

'She's hot,' said Turk.

'She's nice,' said the janitor. 'She doesn't insult me.'

'She's _crazy_,' JD muttered.

'Would you all stop gasbagging and get out of the way!' Cox shouted. Reluctantly the crowd got out of the way and let him push Lister's wheelchair out of the lift.

Everything was an event here.

* * *

Alex was indeed hot, and bossy, and assertive, but Lister noticed the nice part right away. She was very professional, but she gave him five minutes to sit in his chair and look out of the window, because he hadn't looked out of a window in three and a half weeks.

Then they got down to business.

Lister's back was healed -- to a point. He still had a cast on, the one Rimmer had suggested the whole crew could sign, and it wrapped around most of his torso from just above his pelvis to just below his armpits. However, it had been put on him mostly to keep him from moving and undoing all the good work Turk and the other surgeons had done. The bones had knit, for the most part, and there had been no spinal cord damage.

'It's time to try standing up,' Alex said.

Standing up involved Lister clinging to the chair and refusing to move while Alex -- who was little, but filled with wiry strength -- attempted to prise him out of it. She got him on his feet eventually, and Lister moaned about the ache in his back.

'Don't be a wuss,' Alex said. She had an Australian accent with a tough edge to it. 'Okay, hold onto the wheel.' The wheel was a huge plastic wheel set between two parallel bars. 'Just standing,' she added as Lister looked at it askance. 'We'll get onto walking soon enough.'

Soon enough was going to be too soon. Lister clung to the wheel, gritted his teeth against the ache in his back, and wondered how people ever managed back in the old days, when this might take months to do. He felt it might take months now. He felt like sitting back in the chair and crying for a week. His legs were weak and shaky, unused to supporting him, and his stomach bulged out of the bottom of the cast like the end of a hotdog sticking out of a bread roll.

In short, he felt like shit.


	5. I'm No Superman

Lister had just been brought back to his room after a therapy session, and his legs were humming with the effort. He'd been ordered to report any real pain, but so far all there had been was this weird humming feeling, which was unpleasant but not painful.

'Hi,' Emma said, getting up from the chair by the bed (Lister had come to think of it as 'her chair'). 'Hope I didn't freak you out by not showing up. I got a cold or something.' She blew her nose theatrically to prove her point. 'But I'm almost better now, and I wanted to make sure you didn't have it, because, like, the most contagious time was right before I _felt_ sick, and that was the morning after I saw you.'

'Does her mouth ever stop moving, or does she talk in her sleep?' Cox asked, sounding genuinely interested.

Emma rolled her eyes at him. 'Who're you? The comic relief?'

Cox grinned. 'Who're you? The circus clown?' He nodded pointedly at her hair.

'Emma Blake, and you?'

'Perry Cox.'

They shook hands. Lister felt left out.

'So what're you doing tonight?' Cox asked, smirking.

'Trying to figure out how to fuck in one of those sling things.' Emma smirked right back. Lister's jaw dropped. Cox just laughed and lifted him out of the wheelchair, settling him into the hanging bed.

'Not possible unless one of you is strapped down, trust me.' Cox took the wheelchair and left, Emma waving goodbye, Lister too flabbergasted to do anything.

'What... why... huh?' he managed at last.

Emma sat back down and lit a cigarette for each of them. 'What a creep!' she said. 'He's not your main doctor, is he?'

'No, but he's scared I'll sue the hospital, so he took personal responsibility for moving me. What else were you saying?'

'Aw, honey, I had to get rid of him. Sorry if I got your hopes up.' Emma tried to blow a smoke ring and got a cloud. 'Damn. Yeah, sorry about that, but I had to make it clear I wasn't interested.'

'And _are_ you interested? In me, I mean?' Lister's voice was playing funny buggers.

Emma tried blowing another smoke ring and got another cloud before she answered. 'You're funny. You're cute. And you're immobile, which makes you an easy target. But yeah, I guess I am.' She sounded as if it was just as much of a revelation to her as to him. 'I guess I am. I think it's your attitude.'

'What attitude?'

'To all this. I mean, aside from saying 'My back's broken' to everyone who asks how you are, you haven't whinged or anything like that in ages. It's pretty cool, actually.' She accidentally waved her cigarette hand and got ash all over herself then, and Lister had time to think about what she'd said for a minute while she cursed and brushed herself off.

'You called me a hypochondriac the other day,' he said for lack of anything else to say.

'Eh. Just kidding,' Emma said, waving the other hand dismissively. 'And besides, then I fed you.'

'Yeah, you fed me. I had no idea you hated me so much.'

Emma giggled. 'I don't _hate_ you.' She caught his expression before he could hide it. 'No, I don't love you, either. But I like you a lot, and I have to say I can't wait until you get out of this stupid sling. If it's much longer I might have to make good on what I said to that doctor.'

Lister lifted a hand. 'You'd have to tie me down, according to him.'

'With pleasure.' She giggled again, then leant over and kissed him. This time Lister was marginally readier for it, and kissed her back properly.

'Hi, you two... oh.' JD was in the doorway. 'Are you two... should I leave you alone?'

'What d'you want?' Lister asked.

'I was just looking for my cards.' JD found them in the drawer. 'So are you two... you know, together?'

'He's in _traction_, JD... how "together" is "together"?' Emma asked.

'Well... see, we have this bet on, right...'

They got rid of him eventually, and got back to the actual conversation.

'Tell me something about yourself,' Lister said. 'We've been talking for weeks now and all I know is that you hate your job, you think one of your co-workers is kind of cute, and you'd like to bounce a hammer off your boss's bald shiny head.'

Emma snickered. 'I write porn,' she said.

Lister wiffled.

'You _what_?'

'I write porn,' Emma repeated patiently. 'You know how there are those X-rated bookshops in back alleys on places like Mimas? And how there's one under the big booksellers in the main shopping mall? Well, someone has to write the X-rated books, and I happen to do it.'

Lister nodded slowly. 'I guess you're right,' he said. Then he started laughing. 'It _is_ kind of weird, though.'

'Yeah, well, shit happens,' Emma said. 'Although not usually in my stories. Usually all that happens in my stories is lots of gratuitous sex and not much else.'

'Do you... do you base it on real life?' Lister asked.

'Sometimes. Why? D'you think I should write one about a guy and a girl getting it on in a hospital room?' Emma's eyes twinkled. She had dimples when she smiled wide enough. 'I've only written three that got published, but I have another two half-finished on my computer.'

'Emma Blake, you're a hell of a woman,' Lister said.

'Damn straight I am,' Emma said. 'Damn straight.'

'Hey.'

'Yeah?'

'Since when has there been a porn shop under the bookshop?'

'Wouldn't _you_ like to know?'

* * *

She left him not much later, after giving his legs a massage that lacked expertise but made up for the lack by wandering tantalisingly along his thighs. Unfortunately, one of the nurses appeared and ordered her out, restating the visiting hours, just in case they'd forgotten somehow.

Lister settled back into his sling with a satisfied sigh. Life was good. Rimmer was still shitty with him, and that thing about laughing at him falling had hurt, but other than that he was fine.

'Hey.'

'JD?' Lister opened his eyes. 'Hi.'

'Hi.' JD had a slightly panicked look on his face. 'Help?'

'What's wrong?' Lister gestured to the chair and JD sat down, leaning forward.

'Elliott kind of hit on me, and I don't know what to do.'

Lister thought. 'She 'kind of' hit on you? What's that mean?'

'I don't know. I... she was being flirty, and I don't know whether she meant it or what.' JD looked down at his hands, then up at Lister. 'Dave, you're a good patient, and I'd count you kind of as a friend, and I can't talk to Turk about this because he's out with Carla, and there's nobody else, so what do I do?'

'Was she drunk?' Lister asked.

'No, why... no.'

'Then she probably meant it. See if she does it again next time you see her. If she does, it means somethin'.' Lister winked sagely. 'Good luck, man.'

'Thanks. Thank you, Dave.' JD got up. 'Oh, hey, how're you and Emma?'

'Minding our own business,' Lister said. 'See ya...' JD took the hint and went out, smiling wryly. Whatever his bet was, Emma had decided that they were going to make him suffer or share his profits. That was the way her mind worked.

_She writes porn_, Lister's brain helpfully reminded him. _I wonder how much she's practiced in real life?_

'Shut up,' Lister said out loud.

Sometimes thinking could be a real pain in the arse.

* * *

Since Rimmer had stormed out that night two weeks ago, he'd only been back a couple of times, both times when Emma was there as well, and hadn't said anything. Emma knew they had fought, but hadn't asked any questions. Lister wished she had, somehow, because if she knew how stupid they'd been, she would've yelled at them both and fixed it. But she hadn't, and since Lister couldn't go anywhere, there wasn't a lot he could do about it.

But during evening visiting hours that day, halfway through Lister's fifth week in hospital, the door opened and Rimmer walked in, carrying another bundle of green twigs and paper flowers.

'I wanted to apologise,' he said without preamble. 'I shouldn't've insulted Emma or your friends, and I shouldn't've laughed when you broke your back.'

'Aw, man...' Lister didn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry I told you to blow a sheep.'

Rimmer snickered and put the flowers in the vase someone had brought in. 'Forget it.'

'You forget it.'

'All right, I will.' Rimmer sat down. 'How's Emma?'

'Oh God, does the whole ship know she kissed me already?'

Rimmer looked puzzled. 'No... I just knew she'd had the flu.'

'Whoops.'

'She kissed you? When?'

'Today,' Lister said. 'And just before she had the flu, too.' He picked up his water glass and fiddled with the straw. 'She likes me.'

'Do you like her?'

'I think so. She writes porn,' Lister added.

'She whats?'

'Writes porn.'

'That's what I thought you said. Well, well.' Rimmer paused. 'Er... what's her last name?'

'Blake. But I don't know if she uses that name when she publishes.'

'She does,' Rimmer said. 'She does.' He shifted his weight from buttock to buttock. Lister looked at him expectantly for an explanation. 'Well... I did kind of read one of her books once,' Rimmer finally admitted.

'Rim-_mer_... was it any good?'

'Er... yes,' Rimmer said, deciding not to mention that his copy had ragged covers and hanging pages and suspect stains. 'Yes, it was all right I suppose. But why would you care? I mean, we're talking about books that have more than five pages you know, and you can't chew the covers.'

'Ha ha,' went Lister. 'Very funny.'

'I could bring it in for you, if you'd like.'

'And have her find it? No way.' Lister paused. 'I'll read it when I get out.'

Rimmer nodded, making a mental note to buy a new copy.

* * *

Therapy was a lot easier for the next couple of days, because apart from Lister's legs regaining their strength, he didn't have worries about Emma or Rimmer weighing him down any more. The mere thought of Emma kissing him could send him speeding from one end of the corridor to the other, his crutches swinging him joyfully along.

'Go! Yeah!' Alex cheered as he completed a lap, sweat pouring from his forehead. 'You're a natural healer, you know?'

'Ow,' Lister said, flopping onto the carpet as a cramp nibbled at his left calf. He massaged it for a moment, then hoisted himself back up -- with Alex's help -- and balanced with the help of his crutches. 'Now what?'

'Again,' Alex said. It was her common refrain. 'Another five laps, and we're done...'

Lister cheered.

'...with this part, at least. Then we get to go and do an upper body workout!'

'What's with the 'we'? I haven't seen you do _anything_ you've mentioned 'we' about,' Lister said, taking a few steps.

Alex grinned. 'It's all about willpower,' she said, not that that was a real answer. 'Five more laps, and I'll teach you how to use the weights machine.'

Lister's arms were already sore from holding him up. 'Great,' he wheezed. 'Can't wait.' He imagined Emma waiting for him at the other end of the corridor and lurched into a fast shuffle for the sixth time.

* * *

It was Sunday, and he had one week to go. This was the good news. The bad news was that Kochanski had coerced her way past Carla and Laverne and was waiting in his room when Doctor Cox brought him back from therapy that afternoon.

'Dave, I just wanted to apologise,' she said when Cox had left.

'For what?' Lister asked. 'Ignoring my pain for a week, or insulting me in front of everyone?'

'Come _on_, Dave...' He couldn't see how she'd conned Carla with that voice. It only worked on males. She gave him a pinball smile. 'You know I was at work, and it just stressed me out a little. I didn't mean to be rude.'

'Whatever.' Lister was tired and ached and wanted to rest, but he sensed he wasn't going to get to. 'How'd you get in here, anyway?'

Kochanski looked guilty. 'There wasn't anyone on the nurses' station, so I just walked right in.' She spotted his cigarettes on the bedside table. 'Do you actually get away with smoking in here?'

'Yeah,' Lister said. 'It's great. Did you have an actual reason for coming here, or did you just want to pretend you're sorry?'

'That's not fair! I really _am_ sorry.' She looked more pissed off than sorry, though.

'You're sorry for insulting me?'

'Yeah!'

'Are you sorry for running back to Tim as soon as he came crawling?'

There it was, in the open, like a scabbed knee left for a few weeks before being picked off, only to reveal that the sore underneath hadn't healed at all.

Kochanski gasped. 'Dave, I said I was sorry at the time. Wasn't that enough for you?'

'No,' Lister said. 'Kris, you wrote me a letter, you didn't even say it in person. So no, it wasn't enough, actually.'

'Well,' Kochanski said. There didn't seem to be a sentence that went with it, though, so she just sighed and looked down at her hands. 'Well...'

'Well what?'

'I don't know, Dave.' She looked up. There were tears in her eyes. 'I'm sorry I broke your heart.' Her usually strong voice was soft and shaky. 'I guess I didn't really think about it, after all.'

'No, you didn't,' Lister agreed. 'How about that, Kris? And here I was buying the stereotype that men were the one who never thought before they acted.'

'I'm sorry,' was all that Kochanski said.

'I think you'd better go.'

She stood up, then leaned over the sling and kissed his cheek. 'I really _am_ sorry, and I want to know how I can make it up to you.'

'You can't,' Lister said simply. 'As long as you know how I really felt, I guess that's all I need. Goodbye, Kris.'

Kochanski hesitated. 'Do you need anything?'

Lister smiled. 'Sleep.'

'Oh.' She took a few steps towards the door, then stopped again. 'Do you want me to come and visit again?'

'If you want.'

She left, and Lister slept, the fatigue in his arms and legs pulling him effortlessly over the border between awake and asleep in minutes.


	6. Have It All

It was just about time for Lister to be released. He could walk, with the crutches. His back had been examined and pronounced fixed. He'd had a shower, all by himself, without needing anyone to sponge him. He could even go to the toilet when he wanted, without someone sticking a cold pan under his backside.

He lay in the sling for the last time, feeling the way it swayed so familiarly with his every movement, and smoked the last cigarette out of the latest pack Emma had brought him. They were alone in the room -- Rimmer and a few other people were going to turn up, and they would have a mini-party here before he left, but for the time being they were alone.

'Dave?'

'Yeah?'

'Done with that?'

Lister passed the last of his cigarette over. Emma finished it, then dropped it into his water glass. She glanced at the door, which was closed, and crawled into the sling with him.

'Emma!'

Her mouth came down on his, stifling his protests. Lister couldn't help but start to giggle. She pulled away and said, 'What?' in such an aggrieved tone that it made him keep giggling.

'We'll get caught! That door's not locked, you know, and everyone else will be here soon.'

'Bah,' Emma said. 'I say 'Bah' to your protests.' And with that she wrapped the Velcro restraints around his wrists.

'Are you sure this is possible?' Lister asked as she moved down to fasten his ankles.

'You're wearing a hospital gown,' Emma said. 'Everything's possible.' She pushed said gown up on his thighs, then hiked her skirt up around her waist. She wasn't wearing anything underneath it, and Lister laughed even harder.

'You're shameless! You planned this.'

'And I'm putting it in my next book,' Emma replied, moving to straddle him. 'Any objections?'

'None--' Lister gasped as she settled herself '--at all.'

The sling swayed, alarmingly so, but Emma stuck her legs out of the sides and braced herself against the bed. 'Comfy?'

'Guh,' went Lister.

They had found a rhythm that worked -- or rather, Emma had, since Lister couldn't move -- and were starting to get very enthusiastic about it all, when the door burst open.

'_Dave_!' It was Petersen.

'_Listy_?' And Rimmer.

'_Rowr_!' And Chen.

Emma turned her head. 'Do youse mind?' she asked. 'We're kinda busy here.'

And they actually left!

Lister thought he'd lost interest with that little interruption, but Emma proved him wrong. Just as a round of knocking started on the door, she closed her eyes and called his name, and if they had to send the sling to the drycleaners before the next poor sap had to lie in it, Lister didn't care.

* * *

Five minutes later, they opened the door. Rimmer, Petersen and Chen were still there. So were Carla and Turk. Carla had her hand raised to knock again.

'All done?' she asked pointedly.

'Am now,' Emma purred, and everyone laughed.

'I didn't actually think that would be possible,' Rimmer said. 'By the way, Listy, you're getting my optician's bill.'

'Why?'

'I'm having my eyes removed so I never ever have the chance to see anything like that ever again.'

They pulled a few chairs into a rough circle and sat down. Lister and Emma sprawled on the bed, having prudently dumped the sling into the corner with the sheets.

'So where's Selby?' Lister asked.

'He said something about getting his girlfriend to come along,' Petersen said. 'They'll be here soon.'

* * *

The room was cold -- it had been for six weeks - but it warmed up slowly as the people gathered in it talked and laughed.

'I hear you're going home today,' said Kelso, who'd popped in to visit. 'All healed up, thanks to my hospital.'

'I hear you've healed,' Cox said. 'Bob's parading around like he did it all by himself.'

'I hear you got laid in that sling,' said the janitor. 'I'm not touching it.'

And then Kochanski came in. But she wasn't alone.

'Hi, Kris. Hi, Selb,' Lister said. 'Did you two run into each other in the corridor? I thought you were bringing your girlfriend, Selb.'

Selby shifted from foot to foot. 'Er...' he began.

And then Lister noticed Kochanski's hand was tucked into Selby's, and the two of them had that just-had-sex look on their faces.

'What the hell? What happened to Tim? You're datin' Selby?' he spluttered.

'Er... Dave, we thought we'd better come clean,' Kochanski said. 'Selby _is_ Tim. Timothy Selby, Associate Chef.'

'_Moth_!' Emma said, jumping off the bed. 'So this is the bitch you were fucking!' She glared at Kochanski. 'You led him around by the bloody nose, you know that? As soon as it looked like you'd take him back he ditched me!' She glared at Selby, then. 'And _you_! You didn't even acknowledge me when I saw you the other day!'

'I didn't recognise you!' Selby protested.

'_You're_ the cow he dumped me for?' Kochanski said. She yanked her hand free of Selby's and glared right back at Emma. 'I thought you were meant to be brunette!' She grabbed a handful of Emma's hair -- Emma yelped and slapped her -- and shook it triumphantly. 'Your roots are growing out!'

'You bastard, Selby,' Lister said slowly, staring at his erstwhile friend. 'You knew I was mad crazy about Kris, but you nicked her back off me anyway.'

'You're probably shit in bed,' Selby said. So much for 'the quiet one'!

'He's not,' Emma said.

Kochanski shook Emma's head again, and Emma kicked her shin. 'You'd know, you peroxide tart! First you nick my Timmy, then you pinch Dave!'

'Pinch Dave, my sweet fanny,' Emma said, biting Kochanski's wrist just for good measure, and finally escaping her grip. 'You left him for Moth, and good fucking riddance is what I say!'

Carla and Turk had been watching this with some interest, and both started applauding.

'Congratulations, you guys. You're more screwed up than Bambi and Elliott,' Carla said.

Emma sank back down on the bed, rubbing her head. Kochanski was staring at the bite mark on her arm.

'Okay,' Lister said finally. 'I know we're all a little mad right now -- I can't believe you were going behind our backs for so long, Selb -- but we need to calm down.'

'You kept talking about Krissie like she was some kind of sex object,' Selby muttered. 'I couldn't stand it. I knew if you knew about us you'd turn her into a trophy. And when she got with you... well...'

'Why me?' Emma interrupted. 'For God's sake, Moth, you had the best-looking woman on the ship. Why'd you ever start anything with me?'

Selby shrugged. 'Filet mignon is nice, but you don't want to eat it every night, do you? Sometimes it's nice to go out for a hamburger.'

'Oh, that makes me feel so much better,' Emma said sarcastically. She looked at Carla. '_Men_!'

'Right,' Carla agreed, elbowing Turk when he tried to protest. 'Totally right.'

'I think we'd better go,' Selby said to Kochanski.

'Is that it, then? You're just going to walk away?' Lister asked.

'This time it might be the right thing to do,' Kochanski said. She looked at Lister and Emma. 'I'm sorry, both of you, for everything that's happened, but it might be a good idea if we didn't see each other for a while.' With that she almost bolted out of the door, dragging Selby with her.

'Kris and Selby,' Lister said.

'Who'd a thunk it?' Emma said. 'That bloody Moth, if I ever get the chance I'll smack him one, honest.'

'Selby shagged Kochanski,' Chen said. 'And he kept it a secret.'

'How the hell does a man do that?' Petersen asked.

'Let's just forget about it all,' Rimmer said. 'Can we get out of here?'

'Dave needs his exit form signed by his attending doctor, which would be Bambi,' Carla said. 'Except Bambi's not here.'

'Yeah, where is he?' Lister said. 'I thought he and Elliott were coming to say goodbye.'

There was a slight cough from the doorway. JD and Elliott were standing there. Kelso was holding Elliott's collar, Cox, JD's. JD and Elliott looked embarrassed. But they were holding hands.

'We found your attending in the broom cupboard,' Kelso explained.

'Actually, _I_ found them,' said the janitor from behind the doctors.

'With Barbie here 'attending' to him,' Cox said, shaking Elliott slightly.

'We thought you'd like to get out of here sooner rather than later, so we thought you'd like them to come out of the closet as soon as possible,' Kelso said, oblivious to his own pun, at which Emma snickered.

'Sorry,' JD offered, dangling.

'Sign this, Bambi,' Carla said, offering him a clipboard. 'And in the future, don't have sex in the broom cupboard.'

'Okay,' Elliott sighed.

'Do it in the medical supplies room. That has a lock on the inside of the door.'

* * *

Lister got out of there eventually, swinging along on his crutches, Emma on one side and Rimmer on the other. They made their way to the Xpress lift, which, true to form, was being slow. Lister jabbed the 'up' button with a crutch and they waited.

When the doors finally opened, the lift was a good foot above ground level. Rimmer scrambled up first and, with Emma shoving Lister from behind, managed to haul him into the lift. The doors started to close, and Lister dropped his crutches with a clatter, trying to get to the 'door open' button.

'Damn!' Emma said, jumping at the closing door, missing the step, and falling back onto the floor with a nasty crack. She screamed, and people came running. Lister dropped to his knees and crawled down from the lift to kneel beside her. She gave him a wan smile.

'What happened?'

'Think I broke my leg. Looks like we'll be here for a little longer...'

Behind Lister, Rimmer started laughing, but it was okay this time, because they were all laughing.


End file.
